Laundry, Life and Breakfast at Tiffany's
by Eileen
Summary: This is a story I've been working on for a while and finally finished. It's a hint of a LoganRogue romance. If you haven't seen Breakfast at Tiffany's, go rent it! It's a great movie!


Laundry, Life and Breakfast at Tiffany's

Laundry, Life and _Breakfast at Tiffany's_

(Disclaimer: X-Men and all related characters are the property of Marvel Comics.)

_You say_

_We've got nothing in common,_

_No common ground to start from,_

_And we're falling apart._

_You say,_

The world has come between us,

_Our lives have come between us,_

_But I know you just don't care._

_Then I say, "What about _Breakfast at Tiffany's?"

_She said, "I think I remember the film._

_Yes, I recall, I think, we both kinda liked it."_

_And I said, "Well, that's one thing we've got."_

_ _

_Deep Blue Something, "Breakfast at Tiffany's"_

Another boring Saturday afternoon. 

Rogue shifted her laundry basket to her other hip as she turned the corner into the basement laundry room. She hoped the machine was free. With so many people in the house, the washer and dryer ran constantly, and there was always a load either just going into or just coming out of either or both. And some people—she wasn't sure who, but she suspected one was her annoying little brother—had a habit of dumping the stuff out of the washer onto the floor, and putting their own clothes in.

She was in luck; the washer was empty. She tipped the basket up and started loading her pre-separated clothes in, then hunted around for the detergent. You'd _think_ they'd leave it out where you could get to it, but someone—not the wash-dumper, probably one of the girls—kept putting it away somewhere nobody could find it. Ah, here it was, under the sink. Stupid place to put it.

She turned around and walked right into something.

"Scuse me, darlin'."

Correction: some_one_.

She hadn't expected Logan to be home. He pretty much came and went as he pleased, and never told anyone where he was going. 

"Sorry," she muttered, and stepped to the side.

He went to the dryer and began unloading it. She was trying not to look, but found herself sneaking a peek, hoping to see what kind of underwear he preferred—boxers or briefs?

"How come you didn't go into town with the others?" he asked.

"Ice skating?" She raised her eyebrows. "Not exactly my thing."

"You don't know how, do you?"

"I'm from the South," she snapped. "We don't have a lot of ice there."

"Even Florida has a hockey team," he countered.

"I guess. I don't watch hockey." She measured out the detergent and poured it on top of her clothes.

There was an awkward silence.

Logan shifted the laundry basket from one hip to the other. "So, what are your plans today?"

"Um," Rogue said. "There was a movie I wanted to go see . . ."

"What movie? Anything interesting?"

She looked at the floor, embarassed. _"Breakfast at Tiffany's_," she mumbled.

"What?"

"_Breakfast at Tiffany's_," she repeated. "It's playing at the little revival house across town."

"I'll go with you."

She blinked. "You will?"

"Do you mind?"

"No, it's fine with me. I just didn't think it was your kind of movie."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

That, at least, was true.

"Sure, all right. Let me get rid of this thing and I'll meet you outside."

Logan nodded. 

The theater was more crowded that Logan thought it would be. At first he didn't get it, but then when he saw the man walking up and down the aisle, handing out sheets of paper, it dawned on him. The revival theater was at the edge of the university campus, and a lot of film classes met there to take notes.

"Okay, I want you all to record your impressions of Holly Golightly's character," the man was saying. "And we'll discuss them in class on Monday. Remember that the final product _must_ be typed, double-spaced—"

He started to hand a paper to Logan, then realized his mistake. "Oh, I'm sorry, you're not in the class, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Sorry about that. I hope you and your daughter enjoy the show." He walked on up the aisle.

"Daughter!" Rogue grumbled.

"Now calm down. He didn't know."

"Yeah, but—"

"Shhhh. Movie's starting." The lights went down, and the screen lit up.

Sitting there in the darkness, watching Holly get out of the cab while "Moon River" played in the background, Logan thought of the last time he'd seen this film. He thought of blonde hair falling across his shoulder, of delicate laughter ringing in his ears, of a small hand in his. 

God, he missed her so much.

Rogue, on the other hand, understood the confusion and the loneliness that Holly felt, knew what it was like to be alone in the world, not knowing who you really were or who you could trust. It was almost like watching herself up there, in a way.

It was around the time of the party scene that they realized they were holding hands.

They looked at each other for a moment, then looked away.

_What am I doing?_ Rogue thought. _I can't get close to anyone, no matter what! _

Logan was thinking, _She's only a little girl, not . . . who you were thinking of. Don't try to use her for your own needs. You can't make her into . . . into . . ._

He couldn't even think her name anymore. It was too painful.

"Uh . . . you want some popcorn?" he whispered to her.

"Sure. Get me a drink too, please."

He went up the aisle and opened the theater door as quietly as he could.

While he was gone, Rogue thought about him. She knew so little about the man—where he came from, if he had any family, even the rest of his name. She didn't even know if Logan was his first or last name.

_Maybe he made it up,_ she thought, _like Holly Golightly. Just because it suited him._

It wouldn't have surprised her. 

The thought that he knew as little about her as she did about him never occurred to her.

_I'm an idiot_, Logan thought as he stood in line for the snacks. He hadn't expected a wait, but the other movie the theater was showing, some John Wayne film, was just starting.

_Why did I even come here? What was I trying to do, go back to the past somehow? It's gone, _she's_ gone, and nothing will ever change that._

"Can I help you?" the kid behind the counter asked. Logan realized he had made it all the way to the front of the line without noticing.

"Two regular popcorns and a Coke."

"What size Coke?"

She hadn't told him. "Small."

"Butter on the popcorn?"

What was with all the questions? "No thanks."

"Okay, here you go."

He paid and took the stuff back to his seat, wondering how you could live with someone without knowing anything about them.

"Did I miss much?" he asked.

"No. Just her husband showing up." Rogue reached out and took one of the popcorns. "Hey, there's no butter on this!"

"How was I supposed to know you wanted butter?"

"Ssshhhhh!" someone behind them hissed.

"Sorry," Logan muttered, and continued in a whisper. "You didn't tell me you wanted butter!"

"You didn't ask!" 

"I'll remember next time," he said, and immediately wondered where _that_ had come from. Next time? Why did he think there was going to be a next time?

Rogue held her popcorn in her lap and put her drink in the cup holder in the armrest. She didn't say another word till the end of the movie. She wasn't mad, just . . . 

To tell the truth, she didn't know _what_ she was feeling right now. It didn't seem to make any sense. Did she like Logan? Well, she respected him, as a teacher and mentor. She got along with him okay. But he was so much older than she was. How much, she wasn't sure. It didn't matter, anyway; she wasn't looking for boyfriend material in any shape or form.

Was she?

_If only life had as many happy endings as the movies,_ Rogue thought as they left the theater. In movies, it was so simple. The heroine looked into the hero's eyes and knew that they were a perfect match, just like that. And they kissed, and went off to live happily ever after.

Where was her happily ever after? Where was the guy who would chase after her when she jumped out of a cab in the pouring rain? 

"You like the movie?" Logan asked her as they got into the car.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "I love it. I saw it on TV about a month or two ago. They don't make 'em like that anymore."

"No," Logan said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "They sure don't."

Her clothes were all over the floor again.

No sooner had Rogue stepped in the house than she saw a line of clothes stretching out the laundry room door. They were still damp.

"Damn it!" She opened the washer and found a load of someone else's clothes just finishing their cycle.

_I ought to dump these on the floor just to teach whoever it is a lesson,_ she thought, then spotted a familiar Hawaiian shirt near the top of the washer. Kurt's.

A moment later, she dumped the entire load into his lap.

"Hey!" He jumped up from the couch, scattering clothes everywhere. "What's the big idea?"

"Maybe next time you'll wait your turn instead of dumping the stuff on the floor," she said, and stalked upstairs to her room.

Logan met her on the stairs.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"Nothing," she grumbled, and started up again.

"Pretty loud nothing."

She stopped, and looked back at him. "Kurt's just being a jerk again."

"You know he only teases you cause he's your brother. Considers it his duty, or something."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean he can get away with it."

He just shrugged. "He'll learn."

Rogue just stood there for a moment longer before she spoke again. "Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you . . . would you like to go to the movies again next week? They're showing _Roman Holiday_."

He gave her a smile, the first she'd seen since she came here. "Maybe," he said, "we'll teach you to ice skate."


End file.
